Merry Market Murder(46)

“Help you?” she said, though it was clear she didn’t mean it.

“Evelyn? Evelyn Rasmussen?” I said. I hadn’t had much of a plan, so jumping right in was the only option that came to mind.

Her sour face soured more. “Who’s asking?”

My non-plan went forward as I extended a hand. “I’m Becca Robins. I work at Bailey’s Farmers’ Market in Monson. I believe your ex-husband was Reggie Stuckey?” I waited, but she didn’t move; I wondered if she breathed.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news if you are that Evelyn.” I cleared my throat. “Reggie was killed. In his tree truck. In the Bailey’s lot.”

I’d never seen a smile come to life more slowly. It was sinister and made me hold my own breath, but once it was formed, Evelyn’s face transformed again—not back to its friendly happy version, but to something appropriately fitting her “evil” nickname.

“And you think that’s bad news?” she said.

I gulped.





Fourteen





Evie stood, her frame unfolding as I’d predicted: she was very tall. As a short person I made it a rule not to allow someone’s height intimidate me. I stuck out my chin and looked up at the woman as she stepped closer. She leaned over her display table—which displayed nothing at all—and signaled to me with one single pull of her finger.

“Becca Robins from Bailey’s Farmers’ Market. Come closer.”

Like a stupid fly to a spider, I went.

She leaned over and put her mouth to my ear. I figured there was only a small chance she’d bite it off, so I leaned in, too.

“I used to be that Evelyn, but that was a long, long time ago. I haven’t been her for many years—decades. I didn’t like her so I got rid of her and became someone I could better tolerate. I haven’t been married to Reggie Stuckey since I’ve become that better person. This will sound heartless, but I just don’t care that he was killed. I’m not the least bit sorry. I hated him when we parted ways, but thankfully that hate has turned into a quiet buzz of disinterest—thus, and I repeat, I do not care. If I still hated him I would care more, because I would be elated at the news. I’m not. I’m nothing at the news. Understand?”

I nodded, not pointing out that her previous smile had looked close to elation, or strong happiness, at least. “I do, but I wonder if I could buy you a coffee and ask you some more questions.”

Evie stood tall and I was sure her lifted eyebrows raised her entire height a couple inches; she’d become gigantic. “You are too gutsy for your own good, Becca Robins.”

I smiled. “So I’ve heard. You know, you might not be Evelyn Rasmussen Stuckey any longer, but you were probably accused of being too gutsy for your own good a few times, too, back then. Even now, you don’t strike me as afraid of anything.”

I stood my ground. I wasn’t afraid. Evil Evie wasn’t evil at all, but she wanted people to think she was because then they would leave her alone. I knew enough about people who came to work at a market every day to know that she still needed to be around people—perhaps at a distance, but she wasn’t ready to completely let go of human contact. It was either that or she didn’t want to give up her nicely placed corner stall space so someone else could get it. I gambled on my first idea.

“I can’t leave,” she said. “I’m running a business here. You should know about that.”

I leaned a little to my left and peered around her long, thin body. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much to sell.”

As I was leaning and looking, a shot of surprise rattled in my chest. I was proud that I swallowed it before it could jump up and make a noise. There were items lined up on a small table at the back of the stall that caught my full attention, but I didn’t want Evil Evie to know I was bothered.

She laughed again. “You’re probably right.”

She’d changed. When I hadn’t backed down, she’d relaxed and become much less scary, which only reinforced the idea that she was putting on one big act. I’d known an Evil Evie or two.

I nodded and smiled.

“All right, Becca, you may buy me a cup of coffee and I will answer some of your questions, but do not ask me why Reggie and I divorced. I won’t answer that one, and it would be intrusive and rude of you anyway.”

I nodded. Why she and Reggie divorced was, of course, my main question, but she was probably correct: reasons behind divorce are no one else’s business. That, however, didn’t stop my second ex-husband from sharing the gory details of our divorce with the world, but that was just the way Scott did things.